


save me (chain me)

by RenWen17



Series: The Awful Terrible Sneaky Harem of Bastards [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (not seungcheol), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Harem, Assassination, Crane Hybrid Xu Ming Hao | The8, Crow Hybrid Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Dragon Hybrid Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Fluff and Angst, Fox Hybrid Yoon Jeonghan, Hybrids, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Jeonghan's Tragic Backstory, M/M, Multi, Panda Hybrid Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Polyamory, Red Panda Hybrid Boo Seungkwan, Trust Issues, Weddings, Wolf Hybrid Kim Mingyu, inspired by a tumblr post, my harem? did you mean my chief strategic advisors?, soft scoup hours strike again, this one was . much more angsty than intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28699203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenWen17/pseuds/RenWen17
Summary: Having assassinated a prominent, but corrupt, member of the Imperial Court, Jeonghan is meant to be executed — but the Emperor has a better idea for someone so unafraid to exact justice.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Kim Mingyu, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Series: The Awful Terrible Sneaky Harem of Bastards [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982354
Comments: 17
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be way less angsty but jeonghan really wanted me to know that he has a tragic backstory so I had to shake him until his secrets fell out

Chains clattered as they hit the marble floor; Jeonghan cursed in harmony with them as he struck the ground half a beat later.

Another faceless guard yanked him upright by the hair, only to shove him into a full bow. “Watch your mouth in front of the Divine Emperor, fox,” he hissed.

Jeonghan swallowed back another oath and raised his hands in the full gesture of submission, gritting his teeth.

He dared steal a glance at the Divine Dragon Throne, surrounded by candles.

The Emperor sat on the Throne, His robes of flawless white, summer-sky blue, and gold; His face was covered by a golden silk veil and strands of glittering diamond beads that fell over His face and looped delicately to fasten at the back of the Imperial Crown.

Sitting around Him in various stages of languorous sprawl were the five members of His Imperial Harem, bedecked in silk and jewels. The red panda at the Emperor’s feet half covered his face with a fan of luxuriantly dyed peacock and ostrich plumes, casting a sly, half-lidded glance at Jeonghan.

“Guard Captain. Be so good as to explain this to Us,” the Emperor said. His voice was rich and deep, commanding. “This man is bleeding.”

Jeonghan heard the click of the guards saluting. “Divine Emperor, may You live ten thousand years of justice! This  _ fox _ has been found in the bedroom of Your Minister of Justice, a bloody knife in his hands. We implore Your Imperial Majesty to exact justice on Your subject!”

“Allow him to rise,” the Emperor ordered. “We would have him explain himself to Us.”

Again, the guard yanked Jeonghan upright by the hair between his fox-ears, drawing a hissed curse from between his teeth.

“Divine Emperor,” Jeonghan gritted out. “Frankly, Your Minister of Justice was a contemptible criminal and a shitstain of a man.” A kick landed in the small of his back for his foul mouth, sending him sprawling forward toward the dais of the Throne.

“Your Minister has injured and dishonored countless women!” Jeonghan continued regardless, coughing blood onto the gold-seamed tiles between words. “Does Your Majesty wish  _ that _ to be Your executor of justice?” He spat on the floor. “I did Your Majesty a favor.”

The Emperor considered him, inscrutable behind the veils of the Crown.

“Leave us,” He said over the top of Jeonghan’s head. “We and Our Concubines will decide on his fate without the interference of violence.” He gestured to Jeonghan, kneeling on the floor in chains. “He cannot hurt Us like this.”

The guards knew better than to question the Emperor’s orders, even if they disagreed. They bowed and left, one of them knocking Jeonghan over on his way out.

“Minghao,” the Emperor said softly as soon as the great doors of the Private Throne Room closed.

Immediately, one of the Concubines stepped down from the dais and took Jeonghan’s wrist with a delicate hand pushing the manacles back, and closed his eyes, his large crane’s wings fluttering behind him. “No internal bleeding, but he’s sustained very deep bruising,” he reported after a few moments, and dug in his sash for a paper twist of herbal powder. “Seungkwan, pass a cup of tea over here.”

The red panda boy put his fan aside and poured tea in a practiced, elegant movement. “There you go,” he said, passing the fine porcelain cup over. The contents of the paper were poured in, and the tea summarily poured down Jeonghan’s throat.

Jeonghan choked on the bitterness of it.

“How do I know you haven’t poisoned me,” he choked out, spitting to get the taste from his mouth. “It would be a death I deserve, by your laws.”

“We do not punish those who do justice when We cannot,” the Emperor said calmly. Another Concubine, this one with glossy blue-black crow’s wings, poured a cup of tea and handed it to his Emperor; the Emperor took it with a tilt of His head and lingering hand where He touched His concubine’s fingers.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” the Emperor said consideringly. “We see two choices lie before you.”

Jeonghan gritted his teeth. He knew this would be coming, of course.

“The first choice is a quiet execution. In deference to your own noble status, We would give you a quick-acting poison and a comfortable room in which to spend your last day, as would be customary,” the Emperor said.

“That,” Jeonghan spat. “Give me the dignity of dying in peace.” He would rather die by his own hand than an executioner’s blade.

“Patience, Yoon Jeonghan,” the Emperor said, holding up a hand. “You have not heard the other option.” He had not taken a single sip from His cup.

One of His Concubines giggled, holding his large sleeve over his mouth.

“You’re too soft on him,” the Concubine said, his voice surprisingly deep — he was a panda hybrid from the looks of it, dainty black ears poking up from close-cropped white hair. “Before long the whole Court will know what you’re really about with the Harem.”

“Shh, my Jihoon,” the Emperor said — His voice was sickeningly fond, and he had dropped from the Imperial We to the informality expected of a doting husband. “Let me speak.”

He turned His veiled head back to Jeonghan, turning the cup ever so slightly between His hands. “The other option,” He said, “Is for me to wed you. It would not be the first time the Emperor is taken by some flight of fancy and wed a man unsuited to the life of a Concubine.” He still omitted the Imperial We as he spoke to Jeonghan.

He set the cup down on the low table that stood before His Throne, and tilted His head consideringly at Jeonghan. “Make your choice, Yoon Jeonghan. My concubines are… well, they are not all here because the Emperor is a stupid, lustful man.” Beneath the veils, He almost sounded like He was smiling. “Mingyu is my best military strategist, better than my Ministers of War. Seungkwan and Junhui know the workings of my Court better than anyone. I would have you as a voice of justice.”

Jeonghan’s throat closed up.

“The Emperor treats us well,” the boy with the fan murmured from his place at the Emperor’s feet, mouth still covered by his fan. “And in return, should it please us, we treat Him well, if you know what I mean.”

“Seungkwan,” the Emperor chastised softly. “Do not scare him. Jeonghan. Never will I force anyone unwilling to my bed. However, if you ever find that you want to, I am willing to partake in my marital duties.”

Jeonghan gritted his teeth again, so hard he feared that he would crack one of them. “Divine Emperor,” he managed. “This one begs time to think on Your offer.” He intentionally spoke to the Emperor in the Imperial register, hoping that the Emperor would follow suit.

“We cannot give it,” the Emperor said, reverting to the Imperial We with a tone Jeonghan would almost call  _ sadness. _ “The Minister of Justice you killed tonight had many sycophants in the Court, and by morning they will be baying for your blood, but should We accept you into Our harem, they cannot harm you as an Imperial Concubine.”

He placed His hands on His lap, curling in the blue silk of his robes. “In truth, We have been intending to remove that Minister of Justice for quite some time. He cared more for gold and fame than the execution of his duty, and We cannot stand for that.” The Emperor’s hands shook with divine rage. “We are… We are grateful for your swift and decisive execution of Justice, Yoon Jeonghan. We would have that on Our side for as long as you are willing, and not see that bright justice snuffed out.”

The tea remained on the table.

If Jeonghan accepted the Emperor’s offer, he would have to take the tea and offer it to the First Concubine, who sat on the dais with his head on the arm of the Imperial Throne. The First Concubine was a wolf with shaggy dark hair and curious eyes, hulking-huge and with a silvery scar that peeked out from the loose folds of his robes.

He had been a soldier once, Jeonghan recalled.

The iron manacles still binding Jeonghan’s wrists and ankles left bruises and chafed skin, his muscles throbbing with the weight of them. Before long, they would break skin and he would be bleeding.

He shuffled forward on his knees and picked up the cup.

“Kim Mingyu, First Noble Concubine of His Divine Imperial Majesty the Son of Heaven, who executes the Will of Heaven as Its Imperial Seat,” he said, and felt as if he drifted further from his body with each word spoken. “This one, a humble subject of the Emperor, begs your favor and acceptance.”

The chains rattled; his hands were shaking. “The Emperor favors this one with a place in His Imperial House, and so this one prays that his place is accepted by the First of the Emperor’s House.”

The First Concubine’s hands were warm and roughened by the calluses of a man who had known swordplay and rough work, and he cupped them around Jeonghan's own shaking hands.

“This Concubine accepts Yoon Jeonghan, son of the noble House of the Yoon Family favored by the Emperor,” the First Concubine said, his voice far lighter and softer than his muscle-bound physique would suggest. “May we ever serve the Emperor who favors us with love and light.”

Jeonghan expected then that the First Concubine would take the cup from his hands and drink. Instead, the man bowed his head over their joined hands and drank from the cup still cradled between Jeonghan’s palms.

Then, then, he took the cup, half emptied, from Jeonghan’s hands and gave it to the Emperor, who lifted his veil above his mouth and drank what remained in the cup.

Dimly, Jeonghan was aware of the Emperor speaking, but he drifted into blissful unconsciousness before he could comprehend the words.

His last thought before he fell into full unconsciousness was a pained  _ Mother, I’m sorry. _

———

When Jeonghan blinked himself back into awareness, the sun was high in the sky. A slender hand was holding his wrist, two cool fingers placed expertly on his pulse point.

“Where am I?” Jeonghan mumbled, his voice all gummy and weak from sleep. The manacles were gone, as were his blood-stained clothes; someone had changed him into cool, satiny underclothes of creamy off-white silk. His wrists were covered in pristine white bandages.

The person holding his wrist was the same who had given him the herbal medicine when he knelt before the Emperor. He took his hand from Jeonghan’s wrist, laying Jeonghan’s hand on the bed, and shook back his long black bangs. “Young Lord Yoon is resting in my private enclosure, the Firefly Garden Pavilion,” he said. “I have taken the liberty of taking you into my pavilion for your convalescence. You cannot wed the Emperor while you are this injured.”

Firefly Garden Pavilion. Jeonghan closed his eyes again, letting his head relax back into the pillows. That was the pavilion inhabited by one of the Emperor’s more scandalous Concubines, a disgraced crane hybrid doctor; most likely the same man tending Jeonghan’s injuries now.

“You will recover within two weeks,” the crane hybrid said. “So long as you adhere to my instructions.”

Two weeks was precious little time to prepare to give himself up to the whims of the Emperor.

“Why did he choose me?” Jeonghan asked, keeping his eyes closed and face turned toward the sunlight that came into the room. “Am I that pretty, to be saved from my righteous death by the Emperor’s fancy?”

“The Emperor,” the Doctor-Concubine said in clipped tones, “is not so shallow as to forgo justice for a passing flight of fancy.” He shifted, and porcelain clinked softly. Something liquid was poured into a small vessel. “I am going to help you sit up and drink this tea. It will make you more alert.”

The tea was almost as bitter as the other stuff the crane had poured down Jeonghan’s throat the night before, or however long ago that had been. Sitting up sent pain shooting through Jeonghan’s torso, his muscles contracting sharply with the awful pain.

“The Emperor has been considering the best way to invite you into the Harem for over two months,” the Concubine — the Emperor’s Fourth Concubine, if Jeonghan remembered correctly — said. “Last night forced his hand more than he wanted to admit.” His hands were busily mixing more pungent herbs in a dark pottery bowl, long fingers deft.

“Hah,” Jeonghan said on a gasp of air. “So our Divine Majesty has been eyeing me for months, has He?” And oh, that stung more than he cared to admit.

The Fourth Concubine’s hands stilled. “Young Lord Yoon,” he said. Jeonghan tried very hard not to think of the title that would replace it, two weeks from today. “The Emperor, our Husband, has never given me cause to believe that he would take a concubine against their will. He would have let you go, were you not in danger of dying.” The pestle he was using to grind herbs clacked again, the Fourth Concubine returning to his preparation of medicine.

A small mercy. Death would have brought Jeonghan freedom, for all it ended his life, but choosing life meant also choosing an eternity chained to the Harem.

Both would crush his mother.

“I have killed a man,” Jeonghan said, his fists twisting into the blanket that covered his legs, until his knuckles went white. “I should not have been given the  _ choice _ to live.”

“You have done justice,” the Fourth Concubine replied. “You should not have been given the choice between two equally ignoble deaths.”

He helped Jeonghan lie back down against the cool pillows with another wave of pain and undid the loose tie of his shirt, folding the white silk aside to reveal more bandages wrapped around the soft parts of Jeonghan’s stomach.

Under the bandages was a black and green poultice that stank sharply; the Fourth Concubine wiped it away with a warm cloth and revealed an awful purple-black bruise across nearly the entire expanse of Jeonghan’s abdomen.

“The bruising is deep,” the Fourth Concubine said, and scraped out the contents of his pottery bowl onto Jeonghan’s stomach. “You are lucky to have no ruptured organs.” His hands were surprisingly gentle as he spread the fresh poultice over the bruise and covered it with a fresh linen pad, wrapping the bandages back around Jeonghan’s stomach to hold it in place. “As long as you rest, do not move too much, and allow me to treat you, it will heal with no complications.”

If the bruising on Jeonghan’s stomach didn’t hurt so terribly, he would have been tempted to create complications for his healing on purpose, a desperate attempt to delay his wedding to the Emperor.

“May I…” He paused and swallowed hard, even that sending a twinge along the bruise. “May this lowly one humbly ask to… to see his family before the wedding?”

The Fourth Concubine gave him an odd look. “I will speak to the Emperor,” he said slowly, “but I see no reason why you should not be permitted to.”

Thank the Heavens. Jeonghan closed his eyes, pretending as if he was about to fall asleep again.

“Oh no you don’t,” the Fourth Concubine exclaimed. “You haven’t eaten all day, you shouldn’t fall asleep until we’ve gotten some food into you.”

Food was brought, simple fare that would be easy on the stomach. Likely what every patient the Fourth Concubine had was given. Jeonghan let himself be hand fed, propped up barely enough for him to swallow the congee and tea brought without choking.

He truly fell asleep then, aching and exhausted.

He was awoken by a gentle hand touching his shoulder, and startled himself into awareness with a shot of pain when he tried to sit up.

The sun was setting.

The Emperor sat on the edge of Jeonghan’s bed, His face half turned away.

He was in simpler robes than He had been when He chained Jeonghan to life, in blue and grey silk with white jade beads covering the translucent veil of the Imperial Crown.

“Your Majesty,” Jeonghan managed, clutching at his bandaged stomach. “This humble one apologizes for being unable to bow.”

“It is all right,” the Emperor said softly. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” His hand twitched toward Jeonghan’s stomach, then away to hide in the folds of His robes. “Does it hurt terribly? I can summon Minghao to fetch you a pain reliever.”

“Many thanks to the Divine Emperor, but this humble one is well,” Jeonghan demured, even though his bruises  _ did _ ache like hell. It would be the height of misery to make himself a fragile thing to be fussed over in the Emperor’s eyes.

“Please,”the Emperor said, and this time His hand cradled Jeonghan’s own, ever so gently. “Do not lie to me.” Through the gauze of the veil, Jeonghan could see shadows of the Emperor’s features, pinched in some unhappy emotion. “I would like to see you well as soon as possible.”

Yes, of course You would, Jeonghan thought, unable to wrench his hand from the Emperor’s delicate grasp. The Emperor was almost certainly eager to add Jeonghan to His harem for whatever reason.

“This one is well,” he repeated. “This subject of Yours is humbled by Your attentions.” His hand twitched in the Emperor’s.

“If you’re certain,” the Emperor said slowly.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Minghao tells me you’d like to see your family,” the Emperor said at last. “I’ve had the Office of the Imperial House send them a message.” He shifted, His hand flexing slightly where He held Jeonghan’s. “Your family will be brought here as soon as possible.”

Jeonghan let his head fall back a bit, closing his eyes. “This one gives thanks to the Emperor,” he sighed. At least he would see his mother one more time before being locked within the walls of the Imperial Palace.

“Is there anything else you would like?” the Emperor asked earnestly. “We’re fixing up the Silver Willow Pavilion for you, it’s set near a beautiful koi pond with a little waterfall and a nice stand of bamboo, if you like that sort of thing. I can ask the Palace Garden attendants to put in any flowers you’re particularly fond of?”

“Your Majesty is too generous,” Jeonghan mumbled. “This one will surely want for nothing under Your care.”

Truthfully, the Silver Willow Pavilion sounded perfect, if Jeonghan didn’t know it was a silvered cage. There could be worse places to spend the rest of his days.

“What has Your Majesty told the guards who arrested this one and brought him to You?” Jeonghan asked after another moment of uncomfortable silence, opening one eye. “They must not be pleased with this turn of events.”

The Emperor shrugged. “They know not to question their Emperor,” He said simply. “And they will not say anything against my orders.” The jade beads of His Crown clicked softly as He tilted His head. “You needn’t fear for your safety — there is nothing and no one that can harm you in the Palace.”

Jeonghan closed his eye again. Hopefully the Emperor wouldn’t have his head chopped off for not speaking any more. Breathing had begun to hurt, and talking took more breath than Jeonghan could manage.

“I’ll let you sleep.” At long last, the Emperor released Jeonghan’s hand from His, laying it against the silky blankets with utmost care. “My best wishes for your swift recovery, Jeonghan.”

Then Jeonghan was alone again.

———

Jeonghan’s family arrived a week later, just as Jeonghan was becoming able to sit up with less pain.

He was still in the bed he’d been given in the Firefly Garden Pavilion, though why it had a guest room Jeonghan still wasn’t sure. The bandages had been swapped out for a much thinner layer, the poultice less pungent, and the bruising was a sickly green color.

Minghao had brought him a richly embroidered house robe of dark blue and silver silk to wear over the silky white underclothes, and combed his hair out, tying it up into a simple half knot.

“You have beautiful hair,” the Fourth Concubine had observed, fastening the knot with a silver hairpin and cuff. Jeonghan, staring at his hands, had made some kind of noise and hoped that Minghao took it as thanks.

Then he was set up on the bed, pillows piled high to support his back and neck.

Senior Lord Yoon, Jeonghan’s father, swept into the room with as much self-righteousness as he always had, his primary wife on his arm. His second wife — Jeonghan’s mother — and Jeonghan’s little sister followed.

“Son,” he said, clapping Jeonghan on the shoulder. “You’ve really come up in the world, haven’t you? Concubine to the Emperor!”

His first wife gave a disdainful sniff. “I’d be happier if His Imperial Majesty were to make you His Consort, but I understand that’s to wait until He takes an Empress?” She looked Jeonghan up and down, frowning. “I suppose we could pass you off as a woman and beg Him to take you as His Empress. Any child of my husband’s ought to have the highest possible rank.”

Jeonghan’s gut twisted. “Thank you, Honored Mother,” he said. “But I have received a full examination from a Palace Doctor — to lie to the Emperor would be impossible.”

“Well, you’ve done quite well for yourself regardless, son,” his father said, pride in his face. Jeonghan didn’t kid himself that it was pride for Jeonghan; his father had never been proud of him in his life. Rather, he was most likely puffing himself up with pride that he was to be the father of an Imperial Concubine.

“Thank you, Father,” Jeonghan managed. He cupped his hands in a salute, although he was still unable to bow. “It is thanks to your care that this humble son could reach such an exalted rank.”

It was nearly an hour before Jeonghan managed to get his father and his first wife to leave him alone with his mother.

“Mom,” he managed after a moment of awful silence. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

She cupped his cheek, smiling softly. “Silly boy,” she said fondly, although her eyes were wet. “What are you sorry for?”

Jeonghan grasped her wrist, his hand shaking. “I know — I know this isn’t what you wanted for me,” he choked out. “I know how miserable this kind of life made you, but I had — I had no — no  _ choice _ , Mother.”

His mother frowned, brushing his cheek with her thumb. “What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes searching his face. “My Jeonghan, what has the Emperor done to you?”

Jeonghan really sobbed then, the bruise that mottled his stomach shooting pain through him. “It wasn’t the Emperor that did something, Mother,” he gasped. “It was me. Mom… Mom, I killed a man. He’d done terrible things to so many people, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t take it to the Ministers of Justice, because he  _ was _ the chief Minister of Justice, and so I killed him, Mom, and the Emperor said he’d marry me to save me…”

“Oh, my son,” his mother cooed, and bent over to hug him. “My brave boy.”

Jeonghan clutched at her shoulders and cried. “I didn’t want them to send you my body, Mother,” he mumbled through his tears. “I — the Emperor should have killed me, but He said He wanted me, has been meaning to propose marriage to me for  _ months, _ and I thought… I thought you’d rather see me as a Concubine than have to bury me.”

“And you were right,” his mother murmured soothingly, her hand carding through his hair. “You’re right that I’ve been miserable my whole life married to your father, too, but  _ you _ are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Even though it meant having to marry that man, if I got to meet you, I’d do it all again.” She pulled back, wiping Jeonghan’s face with a handkerchief from her sleeve.

“The Emperor said He won’t bed me if I don’t want him to,” Jeonghan said, leaning into the touch. “But I’m… I’m scared that He’s lying to me, Mother.”

“The Emperor is righteous,” his mother said slowly. “I can’t claim to know His Majesty well, but… from what I hear of Him, you have nothing to fear in that regard, my son.” She smiled half wryly. “And at least He can’t kill you by forcing multiple births on you.”

“Oh, well, if He can’t do that,” Jeonghan said, and laughed wetly with his mother.

The Emperor came in a little later, and Jeonghan’s mother scrambled to bow to him, a full bow with palms raised and everything.

“Second Madame Yoon,” the Emperor said politely. “It’s an honor to meet the woman who raised such a righteous son.”

Jeonghan’s mother’s voice was quiet. “Many thanks to the Emperor for saving this unworthy woman’s son,” she said to the floor. “This one can never repay the Emperor’s kindness.”

“It was the just thing to do,” the Emperor said, and — and He knelt to the ground and raised Jeonghan’s mother to her feet, settling her back on the edge of Jeonghan’s bed as if she were made of glass. “We pray that you will be willing to sit with Us at Our wedding to your son — he deserves to have the woman who birthed him by his side at this joyous occasion.” He tipped His head in a way Jeonghan was beginning to learn He wanted to smile, but was hidden by His veil. “And We would be honored as well, by the approval of Our husband’s mother.”

Jeonghan’s mother nodded frantically. “Of course, Divine Emperor!” she exclaimed. Her voice changed a bit, steel creeping into her tone, and her fragile shoulders squared. “This one only asks in return that you pledge to this mother to care for her only son.”

“We promise,” the Emperor replied gravely. “Your son will share all that is Ours, and be cared for as equally as all Our other husbands — none of whom are regarded higher or lower than the others.”

“Then this mother is satisfied,” Jeonghan’s mother said. She stood, dipping into a proper Imperial Court curtsey. “My husband and sister-wife are waiting. Please excuse this one.”

She cupped Jeonghan’s cheek again, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll see you at your wedding, my dear,” she said softly. “Take care of yourself.”

Jeonghan clutched her slight frame to himself for a long moment. “I will, Mother,” he mumbled. “Be well.”

She smiled and drifted out of his room, leaving him alone with the Emperor.

“Your mother is a strong woman,” the Emperor said, His head still turned to where she had vanished. “She reminds me greatly of my own mother.”

Jeonghan’s throat threatened to close up. “Your mother is…”

The Emperor sighed, shaking His head with a tinkle of beads. “Dead. She left this world eighteen years ago, and I miss her every day.” He sounded wistful, but not terribly sad. “I was only eight at the time, too young to properly understand death, but I still… Ha.” He shook His head again. “My apologies. I won’t burden you with my grief.”

Jeonghan wondered if it would get him killed to touch the Emperor’s hand, offer some small comfort. “I’m sorry,” he settled on saying. “She must have been a wonderful woman and mother to You.”

The Emperor’s head turned to him and tilted in that soft smile-way. “Thank you,” He said, and honestly sounded as if He meant it. “Jeonghan?” He hesitated briefly and turned His hand, palm up, toward Jeonghan’s. “You don’t have to use the Imperial register with me,” He said in a rush of breath. “None of my husbands have to.”

Carefully, Jeonghan placed his hand into the Emperor’s. “All right,” he managed.

The light shifted, and for a split second Jeonghan could see the Emperor’s smile behind his veil, his dark eyes glittering with warmth.

———

The next week passed with no incidents; Minghao took the bandages off on the final day and pronounced Jeonghan healed enough to move about, and moved him into the Silver Willow Pavilion.

Which meant that the final preparations for his wedding to the Emperor could commence.

An auspicious date had already been set, for three days after Jeonghan was fully healed, and most of the preparations were complete. Several people from the Palace Office of the Cloth bustled frantically around Jeonghan, measuring what felt like every inch of him and pinning drapes of red and white silk around his body — presumably for his wedding things.

Apparently, eighteen days was  _ not _ the shortest period of time the Emperor had given his Palace to prepare for an Imperial Wedding; he had brought the First Concubine to the Palace and declared his intent to wed him in two days!

All in all, Jeonghan found himself thanking the stars that the Emperor had had to go through the etiquettes of marriage for him. At least he had more than two days to come to grips with the fact that he was to become an Imperial Concubine.

The night before Jeonghan’s wedding to the Emperor, the red panda boy with the fan came fluttering into the Silver Willow Pavilion unannounced.

Jeonghan startled to his feet, frozen in a half bow. “S-Second Noble Concubine!” he stammered. “I — you honor me with your presence.”

The boy waved his fan frantically, his eyes round and alarmed. “Ah, no no no!” he cried. “Oh my. There’s really no need for you to be so formal. Really.” He turned his fan in his hands, visibly settling himself. “Oh my. You really are skittish.”

Which Jeonghan thought was rather rich of the Second Concubine to say, given his reaction to Jeonghan’s formality, but he wasn’t about to argue with a senior member of the Imperial Harem.

The Second Concubine took in a deep breath and stashed his fan in the wide silk sash of deep pink he wore. “We — that is, the other concubines and me — we thought you’d be nervous tonight, so…” He smiled, looking a bit nervous himself. “So, do you want to come over to the Rose Cascade Pavilion — that’s where Jun lives — and get knockout drunk?”

Jeonghan blinked, absolutely bemused by the offer. “Well…” The Second Concubine’s face faltered a little, and Jeonghan made a split-second decision. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that.”

The Rose Cascade Pavilion stood nestled between a set of beautiful waterfalls that trickled into two streams rounding the pavilion, joining into the larger stream that fed Jeonghan’s waterfall and koi pond in turn. As its name suggested, the courtyard of the pavilion was a riot of red and pink and yellow roses, the wood and shingles of the buildings themselves painted and varnished to coordinate with the roses.

Wen Junhui, the Rose Cascade Pavilion’s occupant, was a rare exception to the mandate that required the Emperor to take an Empress before naming any member of His Imperial Harem a Consort; he’d been offered as a peace-make royal husband by the crow tribes on the Northern edge of the Empire, and they wouldn’t stand for their Prince to be a mere Concubine to the Emperor.

So Wen Junhui, First Consort of the Emperor, welcomed Jeonghan into his lavish rosewood pavilion with a quick hug and a chaste kiss to both of Jeonghan’s cheeks. “I’m so glad you aren’t dead,” he said, beaming. “We’re going to be great friends, aren’t we?”

Stunned, Jeonghan could only nod. The First Consort’s eyes glittered happily, and he swept Jeonghan into the Pavilion.

The other Concubines were scattered throughout the sitting room of the Pavilion, all dressed in casual robes; the room was perfumed with a rich incense and the scent of fine plum wine.

“I asked my family in the North to send me a case of the best frost-plum wine of last year,” the First Consort explained, sitting down on a lacquered dark wood settee and patting the cushion next to him invitingly. “Really, most of it is my wedding present to you and our Husband, but I thought I would bring some out for you tonight!”

He poured a generous serving of golden plum wine from its white porcelain jug into an equally fine cup and handed it to Jeonghan, smiling still. “Here; you’re to have the first taste. We’ve just been letting it air before you arrived.”

The wine was excellent.

“I thank the First Consort for his kindness,” Jeonghan murmured, and the First Consort squawked.

“Please, call me Jun! You’re older than me, really, and we like to be familiar with our husbands.” He was blushing, Jeonghan noted faintly. “The only time we really have to be formal is when we hold court with the Emperor.”

“Even then, you make the Imperial register sound filthy, Wen Junhui,” the Fourth Concubine said dourly. “But he’s right. Jeonghan, there’s no need for titles or higher registers between us.”

Jeonghan took another sip from his cup rather than answer, his head spinning. This went against… well, every experience Jeonghan had ever had with a harem of any size. His mother was expected to use humble pronouns every time she spoke to his father’s first wife, and rarely permitted to use her sister-wife’s name. Much less a nickname, as the First Consort had requested.

The First Concubine reached across the tea table and covered Jeonghan’s trembling hand with his own. “This is all very new for you, isn’t it?” he said sympathetically. “I understand.” He had a charming snaggletooth smile and an honest demeanor about him.

“It is,” Jeonghan mumbled. “I am… I am not unfamiliar with how the less fortunate of a harem are treated.” He gripped his wine cup tightly with his free hand, unable to meet the First Concubine’s honest eyes. “My mother was —  _ is  _ treated terribly in my father’s house, despite being his second wife and the mother of his only heir.”

“Your place here will be nothing like that,” the First Concubine said firmly. “We will not allow it to be.” His face softened slightly, and he smiled. “Should we start from the beginning? I feel like our first meeting wasn’t very good for first impressions.”

The husbands of the Emperor introduced themselves in order of seniority, with the familiar names they requested Jeonghan use. Kim Mingyu, a wolf and former lieutenant of the Imperial Army; Boo Seungkwan, a red panda and only son of a faltering noble line; Lee Jihoon, a panda and minor official of the Court; Xu Minghao, a crane who Jeonghan knew from his time in the Firefly Garden Pavilion; and Wen Junhui, crow and First Consort.

“And then there’s you,” Seungkwan said cheerfully. “You don’t mind us calling you Jeonghan, do you?”

Jeonghan found that he really didn’t.

“Good,” Jun said, and poured Jeonghan another cup of wine. “Now, don’t drink that yet, because I don’t want you to choke when we tell you the real secrets of the harem.”

“All right,” Jeonghan said slowly. The other Concubines had sat up eagerly, looking as if there was a great joke about to be shared, and it was a little frightening.

“Well, first and most shocking is the fact that we’re all fucking each other,” Jihoon said bluntly, and Jeonghan was very glad indeed that he had followed Jun’s advice.

“We are,” Jun confirmed, grinning. “What are you meant to do when you’re married to a man with so many other lovely husbands? Your husband is my husband, if you know what I mean, and it does make for a funny joke when we get to be disgusting in front of the Ministers of the Court.”

“But,” Jeonghan said falteringly, and found himself at a loss for words. His mother had always referred to her husband’s other wife as her sister-wife, but brother-husband really didn’t have the same ring, did it?

It still felt odd.

“Can I drink this yet,” Jeonghan asked faintly. “I think I may need it.”

“Oh, yes, go ahead, I’ll pour you another if you need it,” Jun replied, and patted Jeonghan’s back as he threw back the wine. “The other secret is that, well, none of us were exactly recruited to the Harem for our good looks alone.”

He gestured expansively. “Mingyu’s the best military tactician since Sun Tzu, Seungkwan can get anyone to tell him anything, Jihoon can pick a scheme apart from twenty seconds of listening… all that sort of thing. And now you’re to be our husband’s secret weapon for the Justice Division of the government.”

“We aren’t a harem so much as our Emperor’s chief strategic advisors,” Jihoon piped up. “But no one is going to suspect a bunch of scantily-clad pretty boys of anything except being there to please the Emperor, so there’s less of a risk of assassination.”

Jeonghan couldn’t help it any more — he laughed until his freshly healed stomach ached and tears were spilling out of his eyes.

“It’s a very wise strategy,” Minghao said sagely when Jeonghan’s laughter subsided. “Our husband’s been Emperor since he was an easily led child, and that’s formed the court’s opinion of him. If he were to shake that off, he’d be at risk for being assassinated himself, and that’s no good for anyone; so he’s decided to play up the reputation of a simple, frivolous boy who doesn’t quite know what’s going on most of the time, and slowly take things into his own hands.”

“By the time the Court realizes what he’s done, it will be too late to stop him,” Jihoon said, nodding. His smile was smug and wide, dimples forming adorably above the corners of his mouth. “And we get lovely husbands and a life of luxury out of it.”

“Most of us wouldn’t have been able to really help the state of the Empire without this strategy,” Mingyu added. “I was a low-born lieutenant, passed over for promotion on account of my low birth, but the Emperor brought me here to help as a War Minister without any of the risks. I’d likely still be a common lieutenant without him.”

Jeonghan almost spilled his fresh cup of wine. “Wait,” he stammered. “Are you — are you saying that  _ you’re _ the ones who uncovered the Financial Ministry embezzlement scandal four months ago?”

“That was our Jihoon,” Jun confirmed, and reached over to scratch Jihoon between the ears. “He was very well rewarded for it, too.”

They were said innocently, but Jun’s words made Jeonghan go pink and hide in his wine cup. “So… you all regard yourselves as married to each other?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Seungkwan said, and leaned back into Mingyu’s lap. “Our Imperial Husband isn’t one of those lords who won’t allow his spouses to find pleasure in each other. And, well, what do you have five husbands for if not to enjoy their company?” He winked salaciously. “More than one at once, sometimes.”

Jeonghan sputtered and spilled a good deal of his wine onto his nice robes, to uproarious laughter. Mingyu unceremoniously dumped Seungkwan off of his lap, and the other man rolled halfway across the floor in complaint.

“I think I am on my way to being very drunk,” Jeonghan said calmly, and drank the rest of his wine in one go.

“Good!” Jun said cheerfully, and waggled the still mostly full bottle at him. “Would you like to get all the way there?”

Things went hazy and pleasant for a good bit; when Jeonghan came back into focus he was lying on the floor in a circle with the others, their heads touching and facing up to the ceiling of Jun’s pavilion. The wine jars were empty, and Jeonghan’s head was still pleasantly foggy.

Jun’s lilting voice was telling a story of a ghost king and a disgraced god, rising and falling in the measured cadences of a trained story-teller. It was very romantic, Jeonghan thought, and Seungkwan was sniffling into Jeonghan’s shoulder.

The story — or, Jeonghan realized, the part of the story Jun could tell in a single drunken evening — wound to a close, and Jun let out a low hum.

“Do they get married in the end?” Seungkwan mumbled into Jeonghan’s arm. “I’ll cry if they don’t.”

“You’ll cry anyway,” Mingyu said from the next place over. “You always cry at love stories.” He sounded fairly choked up himself, and Seungkwan rolled over and hit him in the gut, leaving a cold wet patch on Jeonghan’s shoulder and sleeve.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Jun said softly. “There’s still so much of their story to be told.”

He stretched and sat up, humming. “I think we’d best all go to bed,” he mused. “We’ve an important day tomorrow.”

It took the combined efforts of Minghao and Jun to get Jeonghan safely back to his pavilion, pour water into his parched throat, and get him into bed; the plum wine had left him feeling floaty and nice in a way that wasn’t very conducive to concentrating on — well,  _ anything _ — or navigating the walkways of the Imperial Palace.

He woke up with less of a hangover than he’d expected, given the strength of the wine, and was immediately whirled into the preparations for his wedding.

The attendants brought him a light breakfast and tea, which they barely gave him any time to eat before chivvying him into the bath pavilion to be thoroughly scrubbed and lathered in a dozen scented oils, and doing something  _ excessively _ unpleasant with his rear end that Jeonghan frankly didn’t even process until it was over and he was half sprawled over a ledge, gasping for air and struggling to reorient himself.

“You did better than most people,” the person who’d done  _ that _ to him said, evidently meaning to be reassuring.

Jeonghan grunted uncomfortably and straightened up, pretending that he wasn’t about to keel over.

He’d worn full Court fashion exactly twice in his twenty-seven years; for his adulthood ceremony at age twenty, and for the Emperor’s twentieth birthday the same year. Both times meant six layers of silk, and he assumed his wedding robes would be the same.

He was wrong.

There were thirteen layers of red and white silk for his wedding robes, embroidered with gold and red and white thread in delicate scrolling patterns, actual cloth of gold as trimming, and with each layer Jeonghan felt the inevitability of his fate settling heavier onto his shoulders.

Everything was exquisitely made, the silk finer and more fluid than water and the embroidery stitches so small one could hardly distinguish the individual threads. There were tiny golden seed pearls stitched into the whorls of red and gold embroidery on the outermost sleeveless robe, so many that Jeonghan’s head ached when he tried to count them.

Several attendants were assigned to Jeonghan’s hair alone while others attended to his jewelery, pulling the length of it into elaborate braids and twists fastened with glittering jewels. What was left free was oiled and combed until it fell down his back in a glistening dark sheet, light refracted from his ornate robes and the gold and ruby hair ornaments turning it a warm brown.

Finally dressed for the wedding, Jeonghan caught a glimpse of himself in a polished bronze mirror and startled.

The man looking back at him from the mirror was as majestic as one would expect from a Concubine of an Emperor. Thanks be to the Gods, the attendants hadn’t put makeup on his face, but even eighteen days of having someone badger him to drink enough water and wash his face properly had cleared his skin.

Surrounded by attendants, Jeonghan didn’t dare try pulling a face to shatter the image in the mirror. He didn’t recognize himself in the bronze.

No matter where you went, wedding ceremonies were simple. Jeonghan and the Emperor made their bows to heaven and earth, their ancestors, and each other, drank wine from entwined hands, and poured tea for Jeonghan’s family.

Jeonghan barely tasted the wedding banquet. The Emperor removed his veils to eat and drink, hidden by the canopy of his pavilion, and slipped the best parts of his food onto Jeonghan’s plate.

“You’re troubled,” the Emperor said at last. His hand twitched, and he turned dark, troubled eyes on Jeonghan. “Are you all right?”

Jeonghan swallowed hard, a mouthful of rice turning into unpleasant sludge in his throat. “I’m worried,” he said slowly. “Your husbands… our husbands,” he amended, half remembering Jun’s earnest gaze as he asked on behalf of all the Emperor’s husbands that Jeonghan consider himself their husband as well. “Our husbands,” he repeated, “did much to assuage this new husband’s worries, but…”

The Emperor laid down his silver chopsticks. “I understand,” he said softly. “A lifetime of fear cannot wiped away in one night.” He huffed a little wry laugh, shaking his head. “Life would be easier if that were possible.”

Jeonghan slumped ever so slightly and managed a tiny smile. “I wish it were,” he agreed.

The Emperor turned to refill Jeonghan’s wine cup. “Forgive this husband’s assumptions,” he said. “But I’m assuming you won’t be interested in the intimate aspects of marriage as of now.”

Jeonghan’s blood ran cold. “This husband is willing to perform all marital duties to the Emperor’s satisfaction,” he said, and prayed that the Emperor’s mercies would be tender.

The Emperor set the flask of wine back down with a sharp  _ clack _ , looking stern and regal all of a sudden. “Jeonghan,” he said plainly. “In this enclosure, in the privacy of our homes, I am Seungcheol, your husband. Not the Emperor. And I do not intend to use this marriage to  _ rape _ you.”

Jeonghan cringed back involuntarily, and his husband’s face softened.

“I think we’d better retire,” he murmured, and picked up the veils of his Crown. “You need to get out from under all these watchful eyes.”

Seungcheol stood, helping Jeonghan to his feet in the same movement, and led him out of the crimson enclosure, through a hidden passage and out of the banquet pavilion.

Seungkwan was waiting by the exit of the passage, tapping his fan nervously against the palm of his hand. “Good,” he said, some tension unwinding from his shoulders. “Seungcheol, Jeonghan, I’ve fetched the others. They’re waiting in the Imperial House with fresh tea for both of you.”

“Won’t it cause gossip?” Jeonghan asked, although his gut twisted with nerves at the thought of either answer.

Seungkwan waved his fan dismissively, his eyes still betraying his own discomfort. “Only the kind we wish to foster,” he replied. “The Emperor is enamored of his harem, can’t bear to be parted from any of them on such a night, wants to have his lovely husbands all together as they welcome the new addition, likely with lots and lots of sex.” He looked Jeonghan up and down, and his face changed to a more sympathetic expression. “Aish. It’ll really be all right, and you won’t be forced into anything.”

In the Emperor’s Residence, Jeonghan was descended on by a flurry of husbands. There was a hot bath behind a privacy screen, and soft new sleep robes when he was dry; there were blankets aplenty, and tea enough to quench the thirst of an army.

Jun twisted the pins and jewels from Jeonghan’s hair with practiced ease, arranging his hair into a loose braid. “There,” he murmured. “Does that feel better?”

“Mm,” Jeonghan mumbled. It really did, but his whole body was limp from exhaustion and the hot bath, and he couldn’t muster up the strength for more than a hum.

“Time for bed,” Jun said kindly. “Cheollie, be a good husband and hold the curtains open so we can tuck our husband in.”

Jeonghan was dimly aware of his cup being eased from his hands as Jun swept him into his arms; evidently the crow hybrid was stronger than his long, lanky frame would suggest.

“Just for sleep,” he mumbled into Jun’s chest. “Please.”

Jun made a fluttery cooing noise more reminiscent of a dove than a crow. “Of course,” he said soothingly. “We’ll just sleep.”

The Emperor’s bed was big enough to fit all of them and likely more. One by one, Jeonghan’s new husbands piled in, lying all on top of each other like fox kits huddling for warmth.

“Don’t lie on my tail,” Seungkwan hissed sharply.

“I wouldn’t lie on your tail if you kept it to yourself,” Mingyu whispered back, not quietly at all. “Move your ass out of the way.”

“I’ll move  _ your _ ass out of the way —”

“Shut the fuck up, you two, he’s going to wake up…”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Seungcheol laid among the pile of his husbands, staring up at the carved jade frame of his bed. His dragon’s tail curled possessively over the stomach of his newest husband, protecting the tender flesh there from any more harm, and his third husband combed his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair.

“He’ll be fine,” Jihoon whispered over the sound of the others’ breathing. “It’ll take more time for him, but he’ll be fine.”

“He’s frightened of me,” Seungcheol murmured in reply. “I don’t know… I don’t know how to convince him he shouldn’t be.”

“You can’t  _ convince _ him,” Jihoon said softly, and propped himself up on one elbow. “We can only show him, over and over until he doesn’t expect anything but your care.” He half smiled, dimpling in the dark. “You remember what Junnie was like when his family sent him down here.”

Seungcheol closed his eyes. “I remember,” he confirmed. That had been a terrible ten months, Junhui skittish and frightened and barely able to speak their language. “I’ll do my best.”

“We all will,” Jihoon said, and leaned over to kiss Seungcheol’s temple. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Seungcheol sighed, tightening his arm around Jihoon. “Goodnight, my love,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

In the middle of their pile, Jeonghan slept uneasily. Seungcheol rolled onto his side and wrapped himself a little more securely around his husbands, nestling into the huddle of warmth.

Morning would always come.

When the morning after the Emperor’s sixth wedding came, it was raining.

“This seems ill-omened,” Seungcheol grumbled into Jihoon’s shoulder.

“You’re being silly,” Jihoon replied, sleep-fuzzy and blunt. “Rain nurtures the spirit.”

“Rain makes my tail wet,” Seungcheol halfheartedly rebutted, already untangling himself from the pile. Their attendants would be in soon, by his internal timekeeping, and Seungcheol didn’t wish to catch his husband by surprise.

“Baby,” Jihoon grumbled, but he was smiling.

Minghao and Mingyu were gone from the bed already; Mingyu likely to do his morning shoulder stretches and Minghao to admire the rainy dawn over the garden lake.

Seungcheol smiled, shaking his head. For his husband’s sake, he hoped Minghao didn’t fall ill again after this particular rainy jaunt; the last time he’d done this he’d been abed for a week and hated every moment of it.

A soft knock on the door announced Seungcheol’s attendants, accompanied by Jeonghan’s newly assigned staff.

Right; the morning procession. Seungcheol roused Jeonghan quietly, loathe to pull his husband from the warmth of the bed but unable to ignore centuries’ worth of tradition. He spoke the traditional blessing and watched the assembled crowd soak themselves with rainwater to bow to him and his husband.

Jeonghan shrank from him when Seungcheol offered his hand.

Sunken up to his chin in steaming bathwater, Seungcheol had a moment to consider Jeonghan’s reactions. His newest husband seemed at ease with the others — which meant that it was Seungcheol he was frightened of.

Well. Seungcheol was the Emperor.

And the interactions Seungcheol had observed with Jeonghan’s family, both at the betrothal negotiations and at the wedding itself, did not set Seungcheol’s mind at ease. His father seemed more concerned with his own status than Jeonghan’s safety and comfort, and Senior Lord Yoon’s first wife was callous and shrill at best.

Second Madame Yoon was scarcely ever allowed to speak, even for the sake of her son.

Seungcheol had not grown up among the ladies of the Departed Emperor’s House for nothing, and he knew what it looked like to be an unfavored concubine. What it did to the spirit.

He would have to speak with his Sixth Mother.

The Ladies of the Great Departed Emperor’s House lived in a quiet area of the Palace, secluded from worldly affairs and the hubbub of the Court; Seungcheol rarely had the time to visit them, but truly enjoyed the days he spent there.

Today, he waited outside the house of his Sixth Mother with a crowd of attendants holding an elaborate canopy above his head. His Mother, he was told, was dressing to properly attend her Son, and would be ready in a few moments, if He would be so good as to wait.

Seungcheol smiled, shifting his weight ever so slightly, and waited obediently.

His Sixth Mother opened the door of her pavillion in a waft of floral perfume, and Seungcheol bowed his head slightly. “Mother,” he said politely. “This Son greets you and asks for counsel.”

“Come in and receive it, then,” his Sixth Mother replied. She shepherded him into her sitting room and helped him settle into a cushioned seat with a cup of rose tea, and cast a calculating look at him.

“It’s about your new husband, isn’t it?” she asked softly. “The Palace has been all abuzz.”

Seungcheol set his cup down guiltily. “This royal Son’s Mother is perceptive,” he admitted. “I had hoped the gossip hadn’t reached the Gardens of Seclusion.”

“Silly boy,” his Mother admonished him. “Gossip reaches everywhere. You can’t stop it.” She sipped from her own cup, her eyes glittering. “And you’ve come to this unfavored mother of yours, rather than any of the more favored, so I assume my new son-in-law is also of an unfortunate lesser wife.”

Seungcheol smiled and picked up his tea again. “My Mother is wise. I…” He turned the delicately etched celadon cup in his hands, considering. “My new husband is nervous,” he said at last. “He seems to fear that I will force him. That my conduct will be that of a dishonorable husband.”

“The second Son of my Departed Husband is far from dishonorable,” his Sixth Mother said soothingly. “I have seen you with your husbands, dear Emperor, and you are no tyrannical Master of your House.” She tapped her lacquered fingernails against the table, clearly absorbed in thought. “What would you have this Mother do?”

Seungcheol stood to bow to her as a son ought to his mother. “This Son and Emperor asks that his Sixth Mother take the mother and sister of my Noble Concubine Yoon under her protection,” he said. “I would show my Noble Husband proper care for the wellbeing and happiness of his family.”

His Sixth Mother nodded and gave him a kind smile. “This Mother agrees. Bring them here as soon as you can, and I will see them safely ensconced in my household.”

Seungcheol allowed her to fuss over him for the next hour; he rarely saw his Sixth Mother, despite rather guiltily thinking of her as his favorite among his father the Departed Emperor’s House. She reached under his veil to pinch his cheeks and clucked at the amount of flesh she could gather between finger and thumb (nowhere near enough, she said firmly, and pressed another tray of honey cakes and sweet red bean buns toward Seungcheol), fixed his collars and the drape of his veil, and refastened his hair under the Imperial Crown.

“My Son is beautiful and wise,” she said as she escorted him out. “This Mother is proud of you.” She reached under his veil again, cupping his face — he had to stoop to allow it, she was so small — and smiled. “Your husband’s fears will be eased in time. You only have to keep trying.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Seungcheol whispered. He smiled, knowing she had her thumb placed right over the usually hidden dimple in his left cheek. “I have to sit in court. Will you…”

“I’ll take care of your husband’s mother and sister,” she promised. “Don’t worry, Son.”

Seungcheol bowed to her and stepped out from under the eaves of her house, into the shelter of the canopy the servants had lifted again.

———

The Hall of the Divine Dragon was full of people, as always. Seungcheol concealed a sigh as he climbed into the gilded palanquin that would take him down the nave of the Hall to his Throne; it was more full than usual today. Most likely, there were hundreds of people there to chastise him on the subject of his latest marriage.

The assembly fell to their faces in coordinated waves as the palanquin passed them, and stayed that way when Seungcheol stood from the gilded seat.

All of his husbands were assembled around his Throne, dressed in beautiful silks and jewels. Seungcheol smiled at them, even knowing they couldn’t see it behind his veil.

Most of them returned the smiles. Jeonghan didn’t even meet his eyes.

Seungcheol settled himself gracefully into the Dragon Throne, curling his tail around the side of his legs and over his lap. Slowly, everyone stood and court began.

Unsurprisingly, the first topic brought forth by the Ministers of Court was Seungcheol’s marriage to Jeonghan.

“If Minister Hwang was dissatisfied with this Emperor’s marriage, why did he not bring it up with Us before its completion?” Seungcheol asked bitingly. “Noble Concubine Yoon is fully bound to Us in marriage. It will not be dissolved.”

Which was not strictly true, as they hadn’t consummated the marriage, but it was enough to make Minister Hwang go red, then white, then duck his head and mumble apologies.

“Allow Us to be perfectly clear,” Seungcheol said, his words as crisp as he could make them. “We will not stand for any criticisms of Our marriages or Our husbands. The affairs of Our House are Our own, not those of the Ministers of Court. We will not be told how to seek Our pleasure.”

Beside him, Jun giggled behind a delicately painted silk fan, his hand playing coyly with one of the beads of Seungcheol’s Veil. It was nearly blasphemous in its familiarity, to touch the Imperial Crown so, but Seungcheol leaned into it.

Court proceeded much as it usually did from that point. Seungcheol half dozed through the tax reports and petty squabbles, settled two land disputes, and put the Imperial Seal to innumerable papers. By his side, Seungkwan whispered the secrets of the Court Ministers into his ear, and Jihoon shook or nodded his head minutely to approve various proposals.

There would be many long evenings in the Imperial Study this week, Seungcheol thought wryly.

At last, the palanquin returned, and Seungcheol could retreat to his home, husbands in tow.

To his own, private Court in his sitting room, with Jun draped across his lap and his other husbands scattered through the room as they reported what they’d seen in the greedy eyes and slinking words of the officials.

Because Seungcheol, for all his education and his personal code of morals, had still once been a child-emperor, led by the court as if he had been a blinkered donkey, and it was still difficult for him to spot lies and deception among the court when that was all he’d ever seen.

Jeonghan spoke unexpectedly, twisting the ends of his blue silk sash between both hands. “The Chief Minister of Coin is squandering Imperial resources on brothels in Yeongyun Province,” he said. “If… if I had not been caught the night I removed the previous Minister of Justice, the Chief Minister of Coin would have been my next step.”

Seungcheol smiled at him, warmth blooming in his chest. Across from him, Jihoon sat upright and slammed a fist on the low tea table, a vicious, victorious grin on his face as he connected the dots.

Yes, Seungcheol thought, Jeonghan would do excellently in his House. It was just a matter of time and trust.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we see a bit of the court in action!!!! thanks for reading :3


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